shall; for 'tis a true song, though it would cost me my neck if it
came to the king's ears, very likely. But you are not tall enough to
whisper in them, so here goes."

With a shout Villon sprang to his feet, draped his tattered cloak
closely about him, struck a commanding attitude, and began to recite
with great solemnity. Louis scooped his claw-like fingers behind his
ear, that he might hear the better the words that fell from the wild
poet's mouth:

"All French folk, whereso'er ye be,
Who love your country, soil and sand.
From Paris to the Breton sea,
And back again to Norman strand,
Forsooth ye seem a silly band,
Sheep without shepherd, left to chance--
Far otherwise our Fatherland
If Villon were the King of France!"

Louis glanced grimly at Tristan; the rogues rubbed their hands and
chuckled. Villon smiled in pride and went on:

"The figure on the throne you see
Is nothing but a puppet, planned
To wear the regal bravery
Of silken coat and gilded wand.
Not so we Frenchmen understand
The Lord of lion's heart and glance,
And such a one would take command
If Villon were the King of France!"